


Gifts of the Second Moon

by Fen_Assan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Celebrations, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gift Exchange, Humor, Romance, everyone is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Assan/pseuds/Fen_Assan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peek at the private life of the King of Ferelden, as he celebrates Satinalia with his family and friends. Everything is fluffy and everyone is happy. :)<br/>A gift for the TMB Secret Santa exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gifts of the Second Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedHawkeRevolver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHawkeRevolver/gifts).



> * Satinalia is a Thedosian holiday once dedicated to the Old God Zazikel but now attributed more to the second moon, Satina. In more pious areas, large feasts and the giving of gifts mark the holiday. Satinalia is celebrated at the beginning of Umbralis.

He woke up quietly. Neither an elaborate yawn, nor a pillow-muffled groan accompanied the turning from his stomach to his side; his eyes simply opened up, his gaze not at all a blurry reflection of the groggy early morning mood. His thoughts were nowhere near grumpy. He felt...yes, he decided, he was not afraid to say it anymore. It was nice to be woken up not by a darkspawn-filled nightmare but simply by the excitement of a new day. He took another careful look around the room to make sure he was alone and, having cleared his throat ceremoniously, announced to his not imaginary but absent subjects.

"This hereby decree, of whichever year Dragon Age, by royal something something, declares that the king...is happy. Thanks for listening, dear loyal subjects. Yours, Alistair. The king. Squiggle-swirl." The last bit of the speech referred to his signature on the document, of course. Ever since he had ascended to power he had been trying to develop an elaborate signature. And he had in fact developed two. He favored the one they had created together, which served as a symbol of his joint power with his wife. It looked like two superimposed A's; the one which stood for his name above in the background, and the one for her name positioned lower in front. It meant it was his task to lay the foundation that she could lean on, but all decisions required her agreement, too. He was proud of that symbol, and did not mind that it somehow ended up embroidered on a lot of their things, including the pillow case he was currently looking at.

This was a new routine for him, not so much the happy one, as he had been enjoying that glorious feeling for some time now, but the quiet waking. Before he would reach out to the other side of the bed to bring her soft pliant body to his chest, and murmur sweet silly things into her ear to make her laugh before she opened her eyes. He loved her sleepy gentleness and how open she was in accepting his and generous in sharing her tenderness. He had never thought she could be like that, but she was, at least with him. But not only with him, of course. She was the most loving and caring mother he had ever met. The mother of his child.

He grinned at the thought. Their baby was the reason his morning habits had changed in the past eight months. He had been both surprised and delighted when Anora had insisted on putting the crib in their bedchamber. Of course the little prince had one of his own, but keeping up royal appearances was so unimportant compared to being close to their child. Alistair would often wake up in the middle of the night, not only when their son started crying, but just to check up on him. Anora would find him sitting on the floor by the crib, murmuring something to the baby, who would look at him with huge eyes full of fascination, the eyes which were already turning the color of honey to match his father's. The little prince would be smiling and making sweet bubbly noises while his tiny fingers were wrapped tightly around one of Alister's.

The king finally got out of their large, comfortable, not too opulent bed, and still in his breeches and night gown, walked towards the adjacent room. He opened the door carefully, not to startle his family if they were there. At times Anora used the antechamber to feed their son, allowing Alistair to sleep, but today the room stood empty. She must have taken the baby for a walk.

Back in the bedchamber, he got dressed quickly but without fuss, and tended to the fire. He enjoyed doing some simple things himself, and his servants had learnt, with time, to respect their king's preference. As he drew aside the curtains on the two large windows, the light flooded the room, bits of serault stained glass at the top mixing colors into the patterns on the floor. He squinted at the sun reflecting off the snow-covered bushes and laughed happily. It had snowed enough during the night for a thick fresh layer to spread around the garden. By the kings command, the snow was left untouched there but for the necessary pathways.

One of those pathways currently accommodated everything he held most dear in his life. Anora was walking slowly, holding their son, who was bundled up in layers of sheepskin. She must have noticed the curtains moving, as she turned a beaming smile towards Alistair, propped the child on one arm against her chest, turning so that he faced his father, and pointed and waved at him. It almost hurt him how perfect this moment was: his beloved wife, cheeks flushed with the cold and the motion, strands of unruly blond hair escaping her fur-lined hood, and his son, that bundle of joy, both smiling at him. He waved them back enthusiastically and made multiple gestures, which Anora seemed to have miraculously interpreted as indications of directions and time that were meant to ask if they were coming back in soon. She must have understood because she nodded and gestured towards the path leading to the entrance.

As much as Alistair liked doing "little chores around the place", as he called them, something as complicated as cooking was beyond the limits of his interests. He called for breakfast and hot drinks to be served in the small private dining room, and went about preparing the portable crib for the baby to be with them while they ate. A polite little knock announced two serving girls carrying trays full of food, and by the time they left he was done arranging the blankets and pillows in the crib, and moved on to the table.

He hurried to meet Anora when the doors opened letting her in, still wearing her furs and cradling their son. As he was closing the distance between them, their eyes met, both smiled and said in unison:

"Good morning, your Majesty." That made them laugh, and the baby turned his face towards the sound of his father's voice, shrieking happily. Alistair carried him to the changing table and unwrapped him like a precious gift he was, cooing all the while.

"Hi Brenn! Who's the sweetest little prince? You are. Yes, you are!" As he was getting uncovered, little Brendan's hands were trying to grab at his father's nose, or chin, or anything at all really. The proud father allowed his chin to be captured, only to swiftly hide his teeth and take the small hand into his mouth, to his son's complete and utter delight. The changing continued with the varying number of baby fingers in Alistair's mouth or in its close proximity; and the shrill, airy laughter ringing around the room was accompanied by enthusiastic kicking, now that the legs were set free as well. The king heard his queen chuckle as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself to his back, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the neck and started peeping from behind him, coaxing even more laughter from their son. He kept smiling excitedly, showing off his four front teeth. Alistair always seemed to count them, even when there were no signs of teething.  
Lost in their family bliss, they heard nothing until someone was coughing loudly in the room to attract their attention. An incredibly flushed maid was peeking through the half-open door. She cast her eyes down as soon as her gaze met Alistair's, and started curtsying vigorously.

"I beg your pardon, your Majesties. I'm so sorry to be a nuisance, but the cook's sent one more cake, it's fresh out of the oven, and the one his Majesty enjoys so much." The said cake was balancing on the platter in the girl's hands and looked very appetizing.

"You should never apologize for bringing cakes," the king said cheerfully with a wink the girl did not dare look at, "if they're good, that is," he added, regretting it instantly because the maid seemed to have taken a fright.

"Oh I dare say it is good, your Majesty. It's one of the cook's specialties. I mean I don't know, I never tried one myself, but I'll take full responsibility for disturbing your Majesties and his royal Highness if it's not to your liking, your Majesty." Alistair cringed at too many "majesties" as he exchanged a look with Anora, who nodded, taking over the prince. The king cleared his throat and approached the maid.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm sure the cake's great, in fact, could I bother you to cut us three pieces?" The girl seemed happy she had received a task and was quick to oblige, placing forks next to generous pieces on each dessert plate, and curtsying again, her hands clasped together. Alistair sat down, against all protocols took the plate in his hand and held it in the air as he turned away from the table. He was now looking up at the maid, which he hoped she found less intimidating.

"Could you do me another favor? Try the cake with me." She was gaping at him, not believing a single word she was hearing and probably thinking herself quite mad, judging by her facial expression. As she was showing no sign of understanding the offer or the intention of accepting it, he took another plate and handed it to her. "Come on. Take it. You need to know if it's really good after all," he nudged gently, employing the unbeatable weapon of his lopsided smile and a raised brow. Resistance was futile, and as Anora joined them at the table, the maid took a tiny bite of the cake. She exhaled as she started chewing, and the quality of the baking apparently reduced her fear and shyness. Alistair smirked contentedly and tucked into his piece with gusto. 

"So what do you say, good, is it?" He received several quick successive nods before a verbal confirmation.

"It is heavenly, your Majesty. Maker bless you for your generosity." She bowed low.

"Oh. Come on. It's alright, I'm glad you like it. Actually," he raised his eyebrows at Anora, silently asking for her approval, which she was happy to give. She put two more pieces of the cake on a separate plate and stood up to hand the rest of it to the girl.

"Please, take it to the other maids, as a small sign of our gratitude for your hard work." She said with a warm genuine smile and an encouraging nod. The girl did one of the lowest curtsies Alistair had ever seen, accepted the not-exactly gift and promptly left, but not before enquiring if there was anything else they needed. They only needed each other now.

Anora giggled at Alistair and leaned in to wipe a bit of cream off his lips before kissing them.

"You look disappointed you didn't get all of it," she teased. His mouth still full, he denied the accusations.

"Noooo. Never. There's cheese, too." He winked and caught her lips in a kiss again, setting the plate aside and wrapping his arms around her waist. She ended up sitting in his lap for the rest of their breakfast. At some point she noticed he was watching her with a dreamy expression on his face. She set her coffee down and cupped his cheek instead.

"You are not thinking about any stately matters now, are you?" He smiled back in confirmation.

"No, why would I be? Ah, the king...thingy, right." He remembered how in their first year of marriage, which had not been a matter of the heart at all, such remarks used to make her furious. She had thought him too unserious, infantile, and unknowledgeable to rule. With time, as she had learnt about his sincere wish to be a good ruler, to do right by people, his absolute aversion to any sort of corruption, she started to appreciate his will to learn and, finally admitting his potential, she started helping him. Their work together had been the first step that brought them closer, allowed them to get to know each other. They had taken a long and difficult road to love, but they could not be happier now. He gave her a most charming smile and peppered each finger of her hand with feather-light kisses.

"I was just thinking how I can't wait for the holidays to begin. It's going to be our son's first Satinalia, the first one for the three of us as a family, and I'm determined to make it special." Anora placed a tender kiss between his cheekbone and his eye, and ran her thumb over the golden stubble covering his cheeks and chin. He leaned into her hand and continued. "And I will do anything to make it private, as we agreed." As a tiny nervous laugh escaped the queen's lips, he eyed her in a mockingly stern manner.

"About that. Darling, there might be a few more people present for the celebrations than you expected." His mouth opened to protest, but she pressed a finger to his lips. "But you won't be disappointed." A disappointed moan did escape past her finger.

"You mean we'll have to deal with someone else besides Teagan?"

"Yes, but they won't spoil it. You will be happy to see them, I assure you." Alistair's continued annoyed moaning seemed to have unsettled baby Brenn, who started showing his own displeasure. The king blushed and hurried to the crib.

"Oh I'm sorry, little one, your father's upset you, hasn't he? He didn't mean to." He picked his son up and hugged him to his chest, the baby's head tucked soothingly under his father's chin. When it was clear no one was upset anymore, the king continued playing with his heir, giving the queen the chills every time he tossed him up. The prince obviously enjoyed it as he laughed happily all through the process, but Anora preferred to avert her eyes to refrain from stopping their actually harmless fun.

When Alistair was happy enough about making his child happy, and they both joined Anora at the table, his face acquired an unamused expression as he remembered.

"So who is it going to be we'll have to endure during our _family_ holiday celebration?" Anora tried to sooth him a gentle smile and a caress of her fingers through his hair.

"It's my surprise for you." The man paled slightly.

"I just hope it's not my sister." Seeing her face cringe with the unsaid words, he sighed. "I'm sorry, I know you'd never do that to me. And I'm sure I'll be happy about any surprise from you. You just need to tell me who it is." He added nonchalantly, flashing a charming smile her way. She smiled back and gave him a kiss by way of response to his provocation. She was going to say something, but they were interrupted yet again by someone knocking on the door. Little Brenn turned his head inquisitively, tilted it to look at his father and then back at the door.

"Alright, little one, if _you_ want to know who it is. Come in!" He made sure the prince was facing the door as it opened and let in Gaven Baert, the man who combined the duties of his and Anora's personal secretary, adviser, and the go-to person for all most delicate and important affairs. The man clicked his heels together giving a bow to each monarch separately.

"I bid you good morning and beg your pardon for the interruption, your Majesties." Anora answered with a good-morning of her own, and Alistair inclined his head.

"It is fine, Baert. It must be a matter of importance, so let's go. Let our queen have another moment of peace." As he was handing Brendan over to Anora, he heard the secretary clear his throat in a manner that suggested it was not sore at all. The king crossed his arms and raised a single brow inquiringly.

"What is it? Is it that serious as to require the attention of us both?" Gaven Baert responded with a bow and a slight blush.

"It is in fact her Majesty the queen's attention that this matter requires. Might I be so bold as to say, in private." A tiny gasp escaped Anora as she seemed to understand what he was referring to. The child handed back to suspicious Alistair, she reached the secretary in a few quick steps and caused further mounting of the king's surprise by grabbing Baert by the elbow and urging him back through the doors.

They remained just outside the room, still visible, but even had he tried, Alistair would not hear what they were whispering. Having dismissed Baert, she returned swiftly, wringing her hands together nervously, cheeks flushed, but gave him a big smile.

"Alistair, dear, the surprise we were just talking about? You're getting it earlier than expected. They are already here." She was still smiling, but he noted her no-nonsense approach of getting straight to the point. He tilted his head to the side and squinted at her.

"Will I have to share the remnants of the cake?" He smirked at her reaction of a warm and relaxed laughter, satisfied he had managed to diffuse any tension. "I take it as a no, which means you can by all means invite them in. I do admit I'm bloody dying to know who they are." She clasped her hands together as if to clap and went to open the door instead of ringing the bell. He saw why when Baert stepped towards her as soon as Anora appeared in the corridor.

In a little while, they heard the steps of two people approaching and then one of them walking away. Alistair darted a look at Anora with an array of emotions on his face.

"Seems like our guests have changed their mind after all. Well, thanks for trying, it was a grand idea and all..." Now she squinted at him in a playfully threatening manner.

"My dear husband, I simply told Baert our guest did not need the official introduction, so what we heard is him leaving us alone, I believe." Curiously, the knock on the door came after Anora had finished her sentence, which left Alistair wondering how well one could actually hear through that door. The queen stood up to open it, but as she touched the handle it was already turning, and she opened the door together with an elven man clad in a warm travelling cloak. As their eyes met, both laughed and embraced each other.

"Anora."

"Faeron. I'm so glad you arrived."

"Thank you for inviting me." Alistair could not see the man well enough as the latter was still standing in the doorway, but the voice was all he needed to recognize his old companion and close friend. Admittedly, hearing his name helped too. The elf however, did not seem to hurry to greet him as he kept talking to his wife, still holding her hands, Alistair noted with a bit of irritation.

"You look more beautiful than ever, your Majesty. I'm glad that husband of yours has not given you any wrinkles yet. I'd have to kick his royal ass otherwise." Alistair had been doing his best to remain calm and appear kingly in front of the friend he had not seen for over two years, but the final remark cracked his stately facade.

"All right, I can see how the Hero of Ferelden might have no reverence for the King of Ferelden, but his Royal Highness here is getting quite indignant at the way you're treating his father." Anora stepped back to let their friend through and take Brenn, who was actually giggling excitedly, into her arms. The elf's expression turned from a gentle smile when he looked at the baby to a smirk when he finally faced Alistair.

"So you did figure it out." As Alistair was squinting his eyes looking confused, Faeron's gaze wandered to the little prince again, and the joke finally revealed its meaning. Alistair caught Anora's quick blush followed by a big smile. He stepped nearer this man, who, instead of a greeting appropriate for a monarch, opened his arms wide to a friend, who had only a few years before blushingly admitted at still being a virgin and asked for his advice. Alistair and Faeron met in a hearty embrace.

"You know what? I did." Alistair almost added that he had quite enjoyed the process of learning, but bit his tongue out of consideration for Anora. The two men slapped each other on the back and laughed, comfortable back in the familiar atmosphere of close friendship, with its complete trust, relaxed exchange of endless jibes, and the grounding knowledge that the other always had his back.

"It's good to see you. Your Majesty." His majesty squeezed his shoulder.

"You too, my friend. The Hero of Ferelden is always welcome at our court. Come, meet the heir, prince Brendan Duncan Theirin. Do you think you're brave enough to hold him? You know, some people and holding babies just...and royal babies at that." Anora rolled her eyes and gave Alistair the look as she was already settling Brenn in Faeron's arms.

"His own son is a year and a half older than Brenn, remember? I think he's perfectly qualified. Especially considering that you and I would never have married if it hadn't been for Faeron. So..." She gazed lovingly at their son and faced the elf. "We never thanked you for bringing us together. Thank you." As she stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, the Hero grinned and turned to Alistair.

"Don't even think about it! I'm warning you." He carefully resettled the prince in his arms, who immediately started twisting a clasp on his chest, fascinated by its shape and the glint of metal. Being a king, and himself, Alistair promptly ignored the warning and gave his friend a bear-hug, only being cautious with Brenn, from whom he managed to coax a laugh as he tickled him in passing. No matter how much Faeron was trying to evade, a ringing smooch from the king of Ferelden eventually landed on his cheek.

"Brenn, I can't wait for you to grow up, so I can tell you all sorts of stories about your father. So you can embarrass the void out of him." The idea seemed to appeal to the prince, who started giggling and trying to bounce in Faeron's arms. Alistair looked pleased.

"Oh, how is Kieran? And Morrigan? I...thought you haven't arrived alone?" The king made an instinctive move towards the door as if to check if anyone else was waiting there, which made his old companion smirk.

"I believe you'd notice Morrigan if she were here." A sigh of relief escaped Alistair and was noticed by everyone present, but Faeron took no offense. "She sends her warmest regards though," he addressed the words mostly to Anora as the two women actually were in friendly contact, and added to Alistair, "and some Satinalia gifts." Alistair's surprised "Oh!" was followed by an inquisitive one, when the Hero continued, "I have not however, arrived alone." 

"Oh? Who is it? Where are they?" Alistair wanted to know everything right away, and his friend obliged, as he sat at the table at Anora's insistence.

"Well that's the thing. I haven't brought him up here as we can't depend on his good behavior, I'm afraid." He chewed on a handful of select nuts and dried berries as he was watching for the king's reaction. And it arrived swiftly, as the man slumped his head into his hands, elbows set on his knees.

"Don't tell me you brought Oghren with you," he mumbled. The conclusion seemed to amuse Faeron.

"No, not Oghren. But he might jump on you and start licking your face, just like Oghren would after a few pints too many." Alistair laughed loudly.

"Rufus! The old boy's still with you? I want to see him! I'd rather have my face licked by the mabari than by Oghren." He eyed the very amused Anora, who was curving her brow questioningly, and shook his head. "You don't want to know."

"He's in the kennels. I wasn't sure if I should take him with me at all, but he's good company on the road, as you well remember. Besides, he really wanted to see you." Alistair peered at Faeron suspiciously, expecting a prank.

"Did he now?"

"Oh, absolutely. He stated so explicitly." The king snorted at that, and then suddenly froze while bringing the remaining piece of cake up to his mouth.

"Morrigan hasn't discovered some tricky spell to actually teach him to speak, has she?" Faeron sighed heavily and shook his head at little Brenn in his lap.

"Unbelievable. I killed the bloody Archdemon, and you still think Morrigan is a better mage than I am." The king's protest was half-baked.

"Nooo. I mean, in all fairness, I couldn't say she's worse, could I? She'd just..." he flailed his arms in a questionable impersonation of Morrigan summoning a spell, "disintegrate me." He and Morrigan had never really been the greatest of friends, although he did try to make an effort later, in recognition of his closest friend's feelings for her. That friend shrugged his shoulders with a smirk.

"You might have a point there." He turned his attention to baby Brenn, who had had his fun with all the clasps and buckles of this new person's clothes and was now becoming a bit restless, twisting in his lap, and repeating "ba ba ba" every time he settled down." The elf met the tiny human's eyes and both smiled. "Hi Brenn. I'm Faeron. Can you say Faeron? Fae-ron." All three adults' eyes were glued to the heir of the Fereldan throne when he seemed to taste the new name on his tongue and bit his lower lip making the "fff" sound. "Haha, well, that's close enough." 

"There's no way he says your name before mine. Let's go see that dirty old dog." Alistair put his son back into his crib.

"Hey, he'd be offended. He sure is old, and a dog, but he's cleaner than lots of people, and even more dwarves." Having kissed Anora and Brenn, Alistair fetched his cloak. Before the men left, Anora giggled happily hearing Faeron's question.

"Umm, about your son's name. You know, Alistair and Anora, Brendan. Are you aiming at recreating the alphabet?" 

***

A small group of people were warmed by the big fire dancing in the hearth, secured by screens on all sides for prince Brendan's protection. They sat on multiple cushions and blankets on the floor, with him testing his crawling in the middle, the mabari dog joining him encouragingly. Everyone's cheeks were flushed with the warmth of the friendly atmosphere and the excitement of the holiday spirit, the mulled wine and the gifts they were exchanging. It was Alistair's turn, and he was enjoying it like a child. There would be an official ceremony in two days with dignitaries bringing presents, but this part, the small signs of affection from his closest and dearest, was what made him happy. 

It was curious how he was at the same time impatient to know what each parcel held, and took his time feeling up each gift, trying to guess what was inside. The one he was holding was about the size of his hand, soft, and made no sound when shaken. He removed the layers of wrapping, and gasped when, uncovered, there was a doll in his hand, which bore an uncanny resemblance to himself. It had been altered, but he recognized it immediately.

"I know who this one's from. Will you thank Morrigan for me, Faeron?" He said with an air of slight disapproval, but his friend just laughed and bumped his shoulder.

"She said it was the sign of a peace treaty between you two. She never did use it, you know, it was just for the barbs. And she's added a little crown and the royal robes. Prince Brenn might enjoy hearing stories of his father even more if there's a doll to illustrate them." Alistair's smile was growing at the realization it was indeed a personal and thoughtful present. "And, to make those stories complete, there's another...item." The king grabbed the parcel Faeron was gesturing at and unwrapped it without any preamble. It contained a Grey Warden hand puppet. He slid his fingers inside, and looked at it unblinkingly, wiggling the puppet and waving its hand at himself. There was a lump in his throat as he was thinking about his time as a Grey Warden, the time when he wanted to save the world, and he did, he helped to. Speechless and touched, he turned to give an awkward hug to Faeron, and as his right hand was still operating the puppet, it nodded and waved to everyone. Brendan's laughter dispelled the moment's stillness, and Alistair sighed and grinned.

"You are the only person who would give the king toys as Satinalia gifts. And I love them." He was already hastily uncovering another present, even though Faeron tried to stop him. A carved statuette of a dragon was truly impressive. 

"Wow. This is...wow." The Hero of Ferelden cleared his throat and rubbed his finger under his nose.

"This is...for prince Brendan, Alistair. Your Majesty." There was a merry twinkle in his eyes as he was trying not to laugh. Alistair felt like saying something stately and serious to contradict the obvious image of himself as a fun-loving individual who could get genuinely excited about toys, but everything that came out was:

"Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?" Teagan, who was playing with the prince, shook his head and hid his face in his hands, pretending it was a game of peek-a-boo. Anora and Faeron laughed heartily, and Rufus barked and wagged his tail enthusiastically. Faeron squeezed Alistair's shoulder and handed him another goblet of mulled wine. 

"You have already asked me that, my friend. And I still haven't." 

"We'll have to rectify that before you leave. There's just enough frost now, and you should remember enough healing magic to fix the...possible consequences." He looked pleased with himself, having established the plan for further entertainment. There was just one more thing he needed to do. In the pile of wrappings there remained a single intact gift. He took it, stood on his knees in front of Anora and handed it to her.

"This one is for my queen. You might want to open it later. Or now." He was blushing, and clearly was not certain what he preferred. She took it, leaned towards him for a kiss, and whispered in his ear. "Now," he nodded. A smile never leaving her beautifully shaped lips, she carefully removed the multiple layers of colored parchment. The suspense drew a bead of sweat on Alistair's brow. When finally the love of his life saw what was inside, he cleared his throat.

"It isn't perfect. You see, I made it myself. I had a lot of help with it, sure, but I made it." As he peered at her expectantly, her hands flew up to cover the gasp escaping her mouth. She met his gaze, smiled and pressed her lips together at the same time, as if to fend off the tears, and delicately picked up a welded rose. 

"It is perfect. And beautiful. And it's just like the one..." It was no longer important they were not alone. She embraced him tightly, whispering her 'thank you's and 'I love you's in his ear, as he breathed out in relief and replied with the same, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He had been hoping she would like his gift and its special secret meaning.

He had never really courted Anora properly. Their wedding had been a political move, and the love that they shared was born over a year after they had officially become man and wife. When he had realized he had truly fallen in love with the incredibly strong, intelligent and beautiful woman his wife was, he told her so, simply and directly, though blushing and stumbling over his own words. He knew a lot of men had tried to woo her, and he did not want to be one of them. He did not bring her costly gifts. He just met her on the battlements one night, and under the shaky light of one torch almost blown out by the wind, he gave her a single red rose. And his heart, and his kingdom. 

When they finally let each other go, they noticed that Faeron and Teagan had left the room, taking Brenn and Rufus with them. Her sparkling blue eyes met his as she whispered:

"Happy Satinalia, my love."


End file.
